


Good Things Fall Apart

by AliceSchuyler



Series: Keeping It Together [16]
Category: 9-1-1: Lone Star (TV 2020)
Genre: Angst, Anxiety, Carlos deserves the best of TK, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, TK deserves the best of Carlos, hugs for everyone, mental health is important y'all
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-10
Updated: 2021-03-10
Packaged: 2021-03-16 21:35:24
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,020
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29956233
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AliceSchuyler/pseuds/AliceSchuyler
Summary: Carlos knew he was an anxious kid, but he didn't know that it would come back around to bring him to his knees.
Relationships: Carlos Reyes/TK Strand
Series: Keeping It Together [16]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2132163
Comments: 6
Kudos: 157





	Good Things Fall Apart

It had started when he was young.

Probably before he’d come out to his parents, but that was when the anxiety really started to manifest, to become overwhelming and terrifying, stealing his breath when he wasn’t expecting it, making the room spin, his skin feeling tight.

He’d felt it when he realised he had a test in class, one he wasn’t ready for, and the heart hammering sensation in his chest made him feel like he was going to faint or throw up, or maybe both. His teacher had taken pity on him, and Andrea has collected him from school an hour later, taking him home and doting on him.

It happened again in high school, the first time he’d been called on in class to answer a question, and the terror of getting it wrong overwhelmed him, tongue tied and shy. He’d ended up getting the question incorrect, the sensations ratcheting up a notch as he realised the class was laughing at him.

Really, though, it had come to head when he’d come out to his parents. He knew he’d needed to tell them, because he couldn’t hide something that was a part of him, so much. His mouth was so dry when he stood in his Mami’s kitchen, and just blurted it out to the both of them. His father had stood stock still for a moment, his mother dropping a dish in the sink, before both of them turned to him, and hugged him, telling him that they loved him. Though the next day, they never made mention of it, instead reverting to mundane conversation, the price of unleaded, a new calf on the ranch, and the anxiety had spiked up another level, feeling wrong under his skin.

He thought he had it under control by the time he’d made it to the force, but he’d been sorely mistaken, panic overwhelming him at his third call into his first shift, making a mistake that he’ll live and regret for as long as his mind replays it for him.

When he first meets TK, the thrumming under his skin slows down for the first time, finally feeling like he can have a clear thought without the overwhelming panic and stress. Doesn’t even matter that they’ve barely met, that their first call out together is a car accident with a pregnant woman and her baby; as soon as his eyes meet TK’s he’s head over heels, and his anxiety feels like it’s dropped away, leaving him barely able to stand with relief.

It comes back with a vengeance the night he tries to make TK dinner, to show him how much he does care for him despite knowing very little about him, and when he finally peels TK away from him, and they sit down, he’s already feeling like this was a mistake, trying to cover his nerves with coy remarks, hoping TK doesn’t see how he’s really feeling underneath this mask he’s wearing. When TK runs, he takes part of Carlos’ heart with him, the key to maintaining everything, to calming down his chaotic mind, to making him feel like he could live and _breathe_ , and the anxiety is so crippling he ends up in bed, barely able to see straight.

_“I thought we were clear about this.”_

The very next night, TK’s brought in to the station after a brawl at The Trap, a bar everyone knows to keep their distance from. He maintains his calm façade, the one he’s perfected over the years, and looks at the broken man in front of him, wrists cuffed, holding an instant ice-pack to the side of his head. Even in this state, Carlos’ heart calms down, allows him time to think, to be able to stop the nervous twitch in his leg for just a moment.

TK reveals so much of himself that night, his own insecurities, and Carlos wants to tell him his, but it’s not the time. Not when TK is still reeling from his failed proposal, finding out his boyfriend had been cheating on him, still struggling to find his feet. But Carlos needs to be in his orbit, somehow, so jokes with him like an old friend, pushing boundary lines until they’re blurred beyond recognition. 

A gunshot echoes out from a call and Carlos’ heart drops once his radio crackles to life, alerting dispatch that a firefighter had been shot. He sprints into the house to find Michelle, Nancy and Tim working on TK’s unconscious body, blood blooming from a wound near TK’s shoulder, his own breath stolen from his lungs as he realises that TK’s in serious trouble.

He loses track of time for a while, until TK’s woken up from his coma, bringing the colour back to Carlos’ life, and they’re sitting outside a café, TK talking about Benjamin Button and boba tea.

_“I had feelings. I’m just confused. Are we even a we?”_

_“Honestly Carlos? I have no idea.”_

_“I have no idea. Hm.”_

As much as Carlos wants to have a serious conversation with TK, to talk about what’s happening between them, where their future is going to be, how it’s going to look, he doesn’t want to break this moment between them, doesn’t want the anxiety to flare up, to control his life again, not when he’s been so in control since meeting TK, become so much more. As soon as TK says he has no idea what they are, Carlos feels his heart drop, weighed down by the concrete he’s drowning under, TK’s words getting lost in the rush of white noise that’s all he can hear. He's taking a back seat to someone else again, not able to tell TK just how he’s feeling, how much he himself is struggling. He knows TK is fighting to work out who he is, but Carlos? Carlos is _drowning_. 

_“If it’s not meant to be, it’s not meant to be. It’s not like it’s the end of the world.”_

Just as they work out who they are, and what’s going on, the Covid-19 pandemic hits, and the whole world he knew has come to a grinding halt, people dying from a flu-like virus in alarming numbers, and Carlos wakes up every morning and looks at the news, sees the numbers of people infected, the number of people _dying_ and his heart rate increases while his lungs are crushed. He draws himself in tight, trying to protect himself from the constant pressure under his skin, feeling like he’s going to explode, and trying to hold it all in because God knows he hasn’t got it as bad as other people in the world. He opens his house to the younger members of the 126, allowing them to come over and hang out so they can still socialise, even if it puts his anxiety in to complete overdrive.

And because 2020 isn’t enough as it is, they’re hit with a slew of strange and completely obscure callouts, ones that even he shakes his head at, wondering how the world has come to this. A guy in an army tank, hellbent on destroying a hospital because his daughter served and she’d been ‘forgotten’, but the worst is an active volcano in Texas. _In Texas_. He’s dispatched all over the place for hours, evacuating people, saving one girl from her food truck filled with scorpions, because 2020 y’all.

It hit him the hardest when he finds out that Tim Rosewater was killed on a callout, and his heart goes out to TK, because he’s always hit the hardest when something happens. He heads home early from his shift, letting his captain know he’ll be off for at least twenty-four hours, and waits for TK to come home, the anxiety still humming through him, skin vibrating with the tension. He forces himself to remain calm as TK enters the house and crawls up the stairs, wrapping his arms around him as TK clutches him tight, the nerves starting to relax as he clutches TK, whispering sweet nothings in his ear as he just _breathes_.

_He'd do anything for TK._

And then he goes and stuffs it up, because the anxiety just _won’t leave him alone_. He sees his parents at the local farmers market, and his mind goes suspiciously blank, remembering when he came out to them, and how they never discussed what that really meant, or how that even made Carlos feel, and he panics, introducing TK as a friend from work, rather than the boyfriend he knows he is. It results in an argument, a fight, and when TK leaves the house angry, Carlos feels his heart shatter on the floor, because it felt like a break up. He ends up sitting on the floor with his back against his front door, trying to breathe, trying to remember how to inhale oxygen to make his mind work because it felt like he’d never be alive again if TK left him behind. He doesn’t even bother going anywhere, just calls in sick to work and stays on the couch, unable to move. TK returns hours later, and for the first time it what feels like forever, he knocks, and that spikes the anxiety through Carlos.

“Hey.” Carlos casts his eyes down a little, unsure of what to do.

_I don’t understand what’s going on TK._

“Hi. Can I come in?”

“You’ve got a key.”

TK’s mouth quirks, a nervous tic. “Yeah, I thought you might want that back.”

_I was right. It **was** a breakup. I’m just not meant to be happy. _

“Why? Are we breaking up? Or did that already happen? Because it kind of felt like it did.” Carlos feels snarky, unsure of where he stands, if he can even move if this is really over. 

“No. I mean, I hope not.”

Carlos steps back to allow him into the apartment, socked feet sliding backwards a little. “Come in.”

TK looks contrite, and Carlos feels out of sorts, desperately trying to maintain some normality so he can focus on this conversation. “Okay, look. I know I was a little bitch.”

“No, you weren’t.”

“Yes, I was. And I just wanted to say that… I’m not sorry.” Carlos felt his eyebrows raise in surprise, readying himself to try and hold it together lest he shatter into a million pieces.

_I’m not following you TK. I can’t even hear you over the pounding of my heart in my chest, the thunderous timpani holding the beat._

“I’m not sorry Carlos. I know I made it seem like your relationship with your parents was about me, but really, it’s about us. Do you know what I mean?”

Carlos can barely look at TK. “Not really.”

_His heart feels like it’s trying to beat its way out of his chest, sure he’ll need a paramedic soon._

TK crosses the room, takes a seat, and Carlos feels like he’s rooted to the floor, unable to lift his legs and move.

“Um… When you didn’t tell your parents that I was your boyfriend, it made me feel insecure, about our relationship and what I mean to you - ”

He’s found the ability to move. “And that kills me, which is exactly why I was avoiding introducing you, because I didn’t want that to happen, and… I-I-I knew it would,” he stutters nervously.

“Yeah, but did it have to? I mean, they knew you were gay.”

_Doesn’t everyone know by now?_

“They know, yes. I came out to them when I was 17, and they were shocked. I-I knew it rocked their world, but they hugged me, told me they loved me, and that was that. You know what we talked about the next morning?”

“Hmm?”

“The Astros bullpen… the price of unleaded, a new calf on our family ranch. Not one mention of what I shared… then or… since.”

“They seem like such nice people.” TK looked upset for Carlos, and he tried to reign the situation back, to get it under control. 

“They are nice people. But they’re not perfect people.”

TK looks thoughtful for a moment. “You know, my parents may be very queer friendly, but they’re not perfect either. They just gave me a pep talk that felt more like it was about them than about me.”

_Ah. There it is._

“That explains a lot.”

“There was something that my Mom did say though. She said I felt triggered because I didn’t feel safe in this relationship.”

_No, TK, I’m so sorry. I don’t understand what I did, how I can fix this. Please._

Carlos looks at his hands, trying to quell the oncoming tears. “I see. I’m sorry to hear that.”

“But you know what I didn’t consider? Is how unsafe _you_ feel, and have felt for so much of your life. I want you to know that I am fully on board. You can tell your parents I’m your friend, your colleague, your personal shopper. I don’t care. Okay? As long as you need.”

“And, if it never changes?” Carlos refuses to look at TK, not wanting to see the answer in his eyes or on his face.

“Well, nothing ever stays the same, Carlos.” TK’s hands are warm, grounding, secure, and Carlos feels like he might weep from the feeling of relief coursing through his body.

_TK does love him._

The next few weeks are hectic, neither of them really having a chance to see each other, because shifts are a thing, as is the need to earn money. But Carlos is secretly proud when TK makes it onto the EMS team as a paramedic, heart swelling when he sees him in the new uniform, the anxiety displaced for a little as he realises TK is more safe as a paramedic, than he was as a firefighter, and he really had no idea that it bothered him that much. They finally get to spend an evening together, after one of TK’s first shifts with Nancy back on board, and even as TK is quietly having his own internal meltdown about Nancy hating his guts, Carlos calm and collected, talking him down, and after nearly an hour of holding TK in his arms, swaps sides, allowing TK to wrap his arms around him, Carlos pressing a kiss to TK’s bicep, and _damn, he’s so lucky._

His heart skips a beat at TK’s sobriety celebration, when TK admits to the crowd that he’s found an incredible man, one who’d shown him that it was okay to open up his heart, and Carlos ducked his head, unsure of how to deal with the emotional overload. The anxiety of trying to plan the perfect event had ruled his life for weeks, with each discussion with Charles to ensure the food was perfect, the cake picked up on time, the guests organised, everything had to be perfection for the one person he saw as the epitome of strength and perfection in his life. He hadn’t really slept in three days, the stress holding him hostage in his own mind.

_All of it was worth it to see the smile on TK’s face, to share the moment of laughter with him._

And then his day at work beat him down. A routine call hit him hard in the chest, a man wearing a makeshift bomb that someone had forcibly strapped to him, the terror in his eyes as he faced death no matter which way he turned.

_It broke Carlos_.

He swallowed thickly, trying to tamp down the impending anxiety attack, because it couldn’t happen at work, _not here_ , _not now_. He’s just a pawn in a bigger game, not able to see the overall picture yet, but he can’t be responsible for the man dying, and he lowers his gun, trusting his gut.

Carlos finds himself in an interrogation room hours later, jiggling his knee nervously, flipping a paper cup across the table while he waits. His gun, radio and badge have all been stripped from him, and he misses the comforting weight of them, reminding him he has a job to do. He feels untethered, out of control, and he reacts suddenly when his father opens the door. He panics when he realises his gut may have been wrong, that he’s made a huge mistake letting a potential suspect go, fighting back tears. He’s feeling like he’s not good enough for his father to care about him, like he’s stepped in as a Texas Ranger to protect his own career, not look out for Carlos, or to provide the support that Owen would have provided TK if the situation were reversed. The realisation hits him hard that maybe he can’t trust his gut, because he doesn’t have the right instincts.

_“No, I know they all think that I got played, but believe me, dad, that man was **terrified**.”_

He admits to Owen that he doesn’t feel good enough to do his job anymore, that he’d prefer to go by the book so he can avoid this situation again, because the stress makes him feel nauseated and dizzy, and he desperately wants a cuddle from TK to make him feel better.

_TK is late._

Even with everything going on, TK always messages if he’s running late from work, and his phone is suspiciously quiet, and he’s nervous and restless and _he can’t breathe_.

He’s stands up, blowing out the candles he’d set up on the dining table because he’d never hear the end of it from TK if he burned the house down with candles because he’s been lectured on fire safety so many times he thinks he could become a firefighter.

When Owen says that the ambulance is still out on call, and everything must be okay, he breathes a sigh of relief, and then follows Owen out to his car, feeling light on his feet. Everything comes crashing down when he finds out that EMS 126 is missing, _TK is missing._

He works blindly, trying to stem the panic before it drowns him, and he loses track of time again, his mind throwing up images from his past, TK being injured, TK in cuffs at his desk, TK covered in blood during the solar flare, just TK existing. He makes suggestion after suggestion, until they find the team at Charles’ old restaurant, and as soon as he can see everything is clear, he only has eyes for TK.

Carlos pulls him close, clutching him like an anchor, inhaling the sweat and coppery blood scent, reassuring his brain that TK _is alive_ though injured and confused, whimpering and holding Carlos tightly, the two of them more intertwined than ever, and _TK is safe_.

* * *

After a twenty four hour watch in hospital, TK is allowed home, and allows Carlos to take him back to his apartment, the evening quiet and still, unlike the chaos of the night before.

“It feels good to be home,” whispered TK, taking Carlos’ hand tightly, feeling his chin rest on his shoulder.

“I’m glad you made it home,” replied Carlos quietly. TK turned and kissed Carlos briefly, wincing as his head still aches a little. “I know. Come on, let’s get you inside and up to bed, and I can look after you.” TK grimaces, and Carlos put a gentle hand on his shoulder, leading TK into the apartment. He’d come home briefly in the early hours of the morning, making sure that the kitchen and dining room were cleaned, the remnants of food cleared away so TK didn’t inevitably feel guilty by ruining something he didn’t have any control over. Carlos followed TK up the stairs, his bed already made, fresh sheets put on and comfortable sweatpants laid out for TK to wear. They quietly get ready for bed, Carlos watching TK with eagle eyes to make sure he’s okay, and when he sits down in a hurry a few moments later, Carlos feels his heart drop, and he abandoned the shirt he was going to wear, just leaving on his sweatpants.

“TK, are you alright?”

TK chuckled weakly. “I’m fine, just closed my eyes for a second and bumped the giant bruise on my head,” he huffed. Carlos let his head drop, and crawled into bed, pulling back the covers so TK can lay beside him, the little spoon for the night. TK snuggles close, and Carlos leans across, flipping off the lamp before snuggling down underneath the blankets, breathing in the smell of TK’s skin as he drifted off to sleep.

He snapped awake a few hours later, breathing so loud and heavy that he’s sure TK will wake up in a moment, and he sits up, realising he’s not getting enough oxygen, and he can see spots across his vision. _TK will wake in a moment_ , but when he glances across, he has to stifle a sob because TK looks so still, unable to tell if he’s breathing because his vision is blacking out on him _and maybe the nightmare was real_. He’s clutching the blankets, lost at sea, heart fluttering wildly out of control as tears course down his cheeks, the anxiety of the past few days finally taking a firm hold. He’s spinning out of control, impending doom crushing him, the fatigue weighing him down, sweat making his skin slick.

_He needs to get out_.

He tries to get off the bed, stumbling and getting trapped in the blankets, falling off the bed and hitting the floor with a thud, paralysis holding him tight as he gasps for air. He doesn’t even hear TK get off the bed, see him flip on the light and gasp, or see him in front of him until he feels a hand clutching his, and TK’s chest under his palm.

“Follow my breaths,” said TK calmly, one hand holding Carlos’ to his chest, the other cupping the back of Carlos’ head, trying to look into his eyes. Carlos’ vision started to come back, his eyes roving wildly as he tried to focus, tried to follow TK’s instructions.

“Can’t,” gasped Carlos.

“You can, you’re doing really well. Breathe in.” Carlos blindly follows the instruction, feeling the oxygen start to flood in, and he feels dizzy and nauseous, sagging back against the bedside table.

“I’m sorry. I’m so sorry,” apologise Carlos, chest still heaving, skin still feeling like there were skittering bugs underneath. TK leaves his hand behind Carlos’ head, squeezing the nape of neck gently.

“Hey, you can talk to me. What happened?” said TK gently. Carlos’ hands had fallen limply to his side, and TK put his free hand on Carlos’ knee, an unspoken support.

“You were dead,” breathed Carlos, voice hitching as the sobs came back with a vengeance, and TK found himself with his arms full of crying Carlos, soothing him gently as he wrestled him to his feet and back on the bed. He pulled them up so Carlos was laying between TK’s legs, cradled between them so Carlos could rest his head on TK’s chest, listening to his heartbeat. It felt like hours to Carlos before he was finally under control, reducing to congested sniffles, TK’s hand rubbing up and down his back.

“Carlos, babe, how long have you been having the anxiety attacks?” asked TK softly. Carlos doesn’t ever want to lie to TK like he’d been lying to his parents and the department, and he took a deep breath, trying to calm himself down.

“Since I was a kid, but they’ve been manageable. You help,” said Carlos lamely.

“What do you mean?”

“Every time I see you, the humming under my skin goes away, and I can breathe, I can see colours, and I don’t feel like the panic is so overwhelming. You’ve been the anchor through every storm I’ve had, every anxiety attack,” admitted Carlos. He feels TK press a kiss to the top of his head, before snuggling in close, Carlos wrapping his arms around TK’s middle, keeping him close.

“I’ll always be your anchor Carlos, because I’ve found an incredible man, one who’s shown me that it was okay to open up my heart.”


End file.
